James Bond, Secret Splitter
by Hyper Hamster Hippie
Summary: Cortez gets more trouble than he needs when the Splitters hide the crystal in the Bond world.
1. In the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do own Timesplitters2 and am an avid fan of the Bond movies. Since I can't find any of them right now I'm gonna apologize for all possible inaccuracies on my part, so spare me the hate mail.  
  
"How long would you say we've got sir?" the weary sentinel asked from his post by the blast door. Sergent Cortez glanced up at him from where he had been programming the time portal.  
"There's only one more crystal to retrieve. Stay sharp." and with that he he leapt through the air towards the portal and was gone.  
  
Cortez hit the ground with a dull thud and rolled into a low crouch, weapon drawn. He was in an abandoned warehouse, from all appearances. He glanced at the gun in his hand. Uzi. He leapt up and cautiously poked his head around the crate he was hiding behind. No one. Slowly he moved toward the exit doors, checking his back and sides frequently.  
Outside was also abandoned. More crates littered the dock, but no boats were parked to recieve them. The sudden wine of engines made him jump. He hurled himself behind a crate just as a lone motorcycle went by, followed by several black sedans with gunners hanging out the windows. Cortez waited for them to pass. Who could be worth all the effort to kill? he wondered. Must be pretty good to take on that many men alone though..........Cortezt stepped from his place behind the crate and took aim at the rear car. It's wheels exploded and it skidded into the sea, its occupants trying to jump out the windows in a futile attempt to save themselves.  
The motorcyclist, in the mean time, had led his remaining pursuers through a maze of crates and concrete barriers. Two of them had crashed, but the remaing three were blocking all the exits.  
Cortez crept up on the car nearest to him and raked its passengers with led. So intense was the barrage that the sreaming only lasted for a split second, then was gone.  
  
Bond cocked his ear. Gunfire. Someone else was here, but not for him. He shrugged mentally and accelerated towards one of the exits.  
"Bloody hell!" he muttered when he saw the car. Its occupants, however, did not move at his appearance. He brought his frontwheel up and used the car as a ramp to fly out of the maze. Jut before he went over he caught a glimpse of the bloodied corpses in the vehicle. Their heads had been severed by the stream of bullets entering the car.  
  
Cortez scowled as he crept towards the second car. Bastards were on their guard now. he searched in his pocket and found what he wanted, a grenade. Winding his arm up like a baseball pitcher, face screwed up in concentration, Cortez hurled the grenade straight at the unaware sentry. Almost in slow motion, the guard turned, alerted by the wind whistling over the explosives body, and with a cry ducked. The grenade went straight through the windshield and a fireball lit the day for a moment, blinding those who saw it.  
  
KA-BOOM. Bond ground to halt and turned to looked behind him to where the remains of one of the cars was burning. Someone else was good.  
The last car accelerated after him. Bond turned towards a narrow pipe and zoomed towards it, curving low to the ground at the last minute and driving back past the car, shooting the driver as he went by. With a crash the car slammed into the pipe, sending shards of glass and metal every which way. Bond slowed again, looking for whoever had killed everyone else.  
  
Cortez crouched on top of a concrete wall, watching the biker look for him. Out of his pocket Cortez pulled his temporal uplink. The crystal was somewhere north of him, about 500 miles. He groaned. He glanced up, saw the biker was gone, and quietly dropped to the ground.  
  
Bond stowed the bike in small sewer like tunnel, than drew his P99 and crouched low, weaving his way through the crates and concrete, searching for the killer. He saw a flash of motion at the top of a wall. He looked around, found a way through. Cautiously he went, gun first. Nothing.  
  
Cortez glanced over his shoulder. Sounded like walking on gravel. Quickly he slipped into a hole in one of the boxes and waited.  
  
Bond was about to scope out a corridor in the maze when he felt a gun at the back of his.  
"Who are you?" asked a rough voice.  
"I'm asking you the same question." said Bond, turning his body slightly and slamming his foot into the mans groin.  
  
Cortez howled as the brit attempted to smash his genitles, then slammed him into a stone wall. He heard the breath rush from his opponents body.  
"So who are you?" he growled over their labored breathing.  
"Bond. James Bond." the brit looked at him expectantly.  
"Never heard of ya. I'm Sergent Cortez." responded Corez.  
"You fought very well back there. You have my thanks."  
Cortez shrugged.  
"Are you with the CIA?" Bond asked.  
"No. I'm not with any of your government agencies."  
  
Bond kept his cool exterior, but his mind went into overdrive. Who would want him kept alive besides MI6 and their international counterparts? Unconsciously he lowered himself into a fighting stance.  
"I'm here to retrieve something that was stolen from my employers." said Cortez. "I need transportation and weapons. Can you help?"  
Bond looked at him quizzically. It sounded like a well rehearsed lie, but if he could just recruit him for this mission......  
"I might be able to help," said Bond. "But I need you to help me out in return. MI6 is searching for a secret base of a rogue Korean general with nuclear capabilities. Help me eliminate him and I will talk to MI6 about helping you."  
"Alright." said Cortez in his usual growly voice.  
There was a silence.  
"Do you know where you are going?" asked Bond after a moment.  
"Yeah. It's about 500 miles north of here." replied Cortez. Bond arched an eyebrow.  
"Really? We believe this generals base to also be in that area."  
"What I'm looking for is probably in the base. They usually use the defences of others."  
"Who?" asked Bond.  
"The thieves." was all Cortez would say. 


	2. Trouble

Deep in the bowels of the red light district of some unnamed North American city, a hooded figure slowly floated through the crowds. His cloak bore the insignia of an eye dripping blood. The crowd gave him a wide birth, and some whispered as he passed. Even hardened muggers, rapists, and murderers stayed away. No one had the guts to give a Syndicate Emissary trouble.  
The stranger made his way to the side of a strip club and gave a series of knocks. The door opened and he made his way down the stairs to a shadowy room lit by low hanging red lamps. He threw his hood back to reveal his pale, alien face. None of the rooms occupants seemed fazed by a scourge splitter entering their den. The splitters eyes traveled over them to the leader, a hulking, heavily tatooed ex-drug dealer who had been recruited by the Syndicate to control this branch due to his intimate knowledge of the area  
"We could have a problem." the Emissary rasped in his inhuman voice. "Cortez has arrived."  
  
In a pub on the lower west side of London, Bond and Cortez were relaxing over drinks while getting to know each other a little. Presently Bond's contact, a layed back computer nerd type named Jack Thorne, meandered in.  
"Lemme just start off by saying it's highly irregular for you to be briefed out in the open like this and M's getting tired of you flaunting her authority-" Cortez interrupted him.  
"It was my call. I don't like being cornered in someone elses office." Thorne raised his hands defensively.  
"Hey man, I'm just passing the message along. Yo, keeps! Beer on this end!" he hollared to the haggard bartender before sitting down.  
"Do try to keep it down." advised Bond. "Just because we're in public doesn't mean we must draw attention to ourselves." A mug flew down the counter to Thorne, who stopped it and flipped a coin back to the tender. Thorne picked up the mug and put it to his lips for moment before slamming it down empty and signaling for a refill.  
"So has MI6 discovered who sent those thugs after me?" inquired Bond.  
"Yeah." Thorne fit in between gulps. "Some new group called the Syndicate. We can't find to much on them right now, but we, meaning me, myself, and I, have been checking around." Thorne called to the bartender again.  
"He always like this?" Cortez muttered to Bond while Thorne was distracted by a beautiful brunette that had just entered and was sitting down bar from them.  
"It would appear so." mused Bond, glancing around the rest of the pub to check out the other clientale. A group of muscular thugs lurked in one corner, completely drunk, two teenage girls and their boyfriends were making out in another, the center tables taking up by an apparent business meeting.  
"Anyway," said Thorne, still occasionally glancing at the woman up the bar. "This group is pretty widespread both in locale in interests from what I can find. Drug dealing, gunrunning, extortion, control of 3rd world politics, and a hell of a lot of other stuff. Basically the you name it, we do it of the underworld."  
"Is there any chance this group is related to Janus?" queried Bond.  
"Well, maybe. Janus pretty much shattered after Trevelyan died in that mess in Cuba, but it looks like these guys are using most of Janus's bases and a large amount of their people and capital. Probably made a take over bid and kept running business as usual."  
"Janus?" asked Cortez.  
"Russian arms smugglers, headed by an ex MI6 operative named Alec Trevelyan." supplied Thorne. A shadow pass over Bond's face, and Cortez opted not to press for details. He could tell when someone had been betrayed.   
"You guys might wanna get down......" suggested Thorne, already diving off his barstool. A burst of machine gun fire obliterated the bottles behind Bond and Cortez and they both dropped, drawing their weapons and rolling behind tables. The brunette that Thorne had been checking out had pulled a sawed off shotgun out from under her dress and the thugs Bond had noticed earlier had opened up her with automatic weapons.  
"Turf war?" suggested Thorne, whom had produced a lethal looking throwing knife from his sleeve. Cortez looked at him in disbelief.  
"A knife? What can you do with a-" the shooting stopped. The woman had killed all four of her opponents and was now turning on the trio were they hid. Thorne popped up for a second and hurled his knife with suprising accuracy and speed, taking off her trigger finger, middle, and ring. She grimaced and raced for the door, firing an uzi she had had hidden somewhere with her good hand. She did not realize that Cortez had left his hidy hole and was unprepared when he tackled her and slammed her into a pole, knocking her cold.  
The teen couples in the corner, whom had been staring in horror at the bodies, were jerked back to reality by the approaching sirens.  
"You better stay here." Bond told them before going to find the bartender.  
"Who do you think she is?" Cortez asked, looking down at her body.  
"Could be anyone." replied Thorne. "Bond has more enemies than the rest of the agency put together. 'Course, I was under the impression he killed them all, but whatever. Ya know, she's pretty cute when she's unconcious and bleeding on the floor."  
At this point the cops burst in and began setting up obstructions to keep the gathering crowd out. They wanted to take Bond, Cortez, Thorne, and the rest of the pubs customers down to the Yard for interogtion.  
"This is gonna be a looooooooong night." muttered Thorne as he got into the cop car. 


End file.
